


The Ends of Your Fingertips

by blinking_post



Category: Big Bang (Band)
Genre: Angst, BaeRi, Brief Appearances by GD & TOP, Friends With Benefits, Incredibly oblivious Seungri, M/M, Miscommunication, Romance, Scene Stealer Top, blatantly obvious Taeyang, they're both idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-09
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-07-14 01:51:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7147247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blinking_post/pseuds/blinking_post
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Youngbae, sprawled out on his couch and bleary eyed, half drunk, asks Seungri why he’s no good with women.  He asks Seungri, with tears in his eyes, heartbreak written on his face, why he’s no good at love.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ends of Your Fingertips

**Author's Note:**

> Hello~! The last time I wrote/posted something Big Bang feels like forever ago~! I usually write Topri but fell into Baeri for a bit there. Topri still ult. OTP but I do have a soft spot for baeri now. This is my first time writing baeri as I'm unsure of how to write Taeyang. I'm still not sure I've quite got him down but I thought I'd still share and I decided to do it now before I talked myself out of it.
> 
> Anyhow, enjoy~!

\----

 

Youngbae, sprawled out on his couch and bleary eyed, half drunk, asks Seungri why he’s no good with women.  He asks Seungri, with tears in his eyes, heartbreak written on his face, why he’s no good at love.

 

Seungri tells him all the cliches he needs to hear to feel better.  “It’s okay, hyung.  There are plenty of other women out there,” equipped with a cheeky grin.  And, “Hyung, first loves aren’t meant to last,” and, “I’m sure the right one is out there just waiting for you.”

 

He says nothing at first, only looks at Seungri with glazed eyes, but then he kills Seungri with a kiss.  It’s soft and chaste, a scrape of too chapped lips with his eyes closed, a tear rolling down his cheek while he shatters Seungri into a million pieces.

 

**Before:**

 

Dong Youngbae is the kind of guy who loves with everything he has, with everything he _is_ and will _ever be._  He does it so naturally he doesn’t even realize how all-consuming it is, how obsessive when his whole world becomes his lover.  All he knows is that he loves them so why can’t they love him like he loves them in return?  Isn’t love supposed to be equal?

 

See, Dong Youngbae is the kind of guy who doesn’t realize his kind of love can make some feel trapped and imprisoned, caged and suffocated until they feel like there’s no other choice but to fight back and claw their way out.  For most people, Youngbae’s love is too much to handle, too much to take on.  It becomes a burden and even though Min Hyorin loves him too she couldn’t do it.  She couldn’t, she had said, before she walked away with tears in her eyes and a smile on her pretty red lips as Youngbae watched her go, ripped to shreds and falling apart, a broken mess left behind her as she refused to look back.

 

Maybe that’s not how it had gone exactly, but that’s how Youngbae tells it to him, shit-faced and halfway to passing out on Seungri’s couch.  It’s one of those rare moments that Youngbae admits he’s drunk because Jiyong and Top-hyung had said it was okay as they fed him more drinks, it being his first broken heart and all.  He needs this, they said, and then the both of them had fucked off who knows where, and Seungri had had to carry Youngbae back to his home because they couldn’t find his keys, only for Youngbae to giggle against his ear afterwards and say, “Hey, I think Daesung took them because he didn’t want me to drive.”

 

**Now:**

 

He does nothing but break silently, stock still, unmoving, hands clenched into fists at his side even while Youngbae sighs against his lips.  And then he slumps forward and falls into Seungri’s arms and Seungri has to carry him to bed.

 

When Seungri pulls the blanket up to Youngbae’s shoulder Youngbae blinks up at him, eyes still glazed over but half awake, and he runs a finger along the side of Seungri’s face.  He asks, “Have you always been this pretty?”  He bears through it with a strained grin and says in reply, “Of course, hyung.  Why do you think Top-hyung and Jiyong-hyung are wrapped around my finger?”

 

Youngbae chuckles, the sound rumbling from deep within his chest.  “Our maknae,” he says fondly, and then he closes his eyes and he falls asleep.

 

**The Beginning:**

 

He can say it starts with the naivety of a sixteen year old boy and a first kiss.  Not his.  Youngbae’s.  Well, a first kiss that actually counts, he’d say, because no way in hell does that kiss filmed for a music video count for anything.

 

But really, it starts before then.

 

For Seungri, Dong Youngbae is the kind of guy who slowly makes you fall in love with him bit by bit, unnoticed, until suddenly one day you look up while he’s teasing you and you realize fuck, the reason why your attempts at relationships always fall apart is because you’re already in love with him.  He’s always there, like the earth beneath your feet, a foundation that keeps you up no matter where you go, and somewhere along the way Seungri got used to Youngbae always being there for a him, a calming, caring, kind force that is always there to support him, even when he was no longer part of the team.  Out of all of them, only Youngbae had shown up to say good-bye.  Not Jiyong.  Not Top-hyung.  Only Youngbae had pulled him in for a reassuring hug with promises that they’ll meet again and words of encouragement for Seungri to not give up, never give up.

 

When he’s asked he says the reason he didn’t give up, the reason he tried again in front of Yang Hyun Suk was because he didn’t want to go home and have his family, his friends, his town be disappointed in him.  That he couldn’t face the shame.  And that’s mostly true.  He doesn’t mention anything about Youngbae.  He keeps that to himself because it’s one moment he doesn’t want to share with anyone.

 

So that first kiss happens because Jiyong had been lamenting about how sad it was that Youngbae’s first kiss will be with a random actress for his music video, and even though Youngbae had shrugged it off and mostly said nothing, Jiyong had kept going on and on, even after the music video had been shot and put together.  Late one night when it had been just the two of them in their practice room Youngbae had sat in the back of the room, shoulders slumped, and Seungri had asked him what was wrong.

 

“Do you think it’s pathetic that that was my first kiss?”

 

His eyes had widen in shock.  He didn’t think it bothered Youngbae at all but Jiyong must have started getting to him if he’s talking about it to Seungri of all people.  So Seungri had cocked his head to one side, slid on in right next to him so that their shoulders pressed together and said what had popped into his mind without filter.  “Hyung, that kiss doesn’t count.”

 

Youngbae’s laugh had been bitter and cold before his head thunked back against the wall.  “Well then, do you think it’s pathetic I’ve never kissed anyone?  Or had a girlfriend?”

 

All impulse.  No control.  Especially at sixteen.  He leant in, brushed his lips against Youngbae’s and then moved back before the older boy could react.  Before Youngbae could say anything, he offered up a grin and said, “There.  Now you’ve had your first kiss.”

 

Youngbae’s mouth slowly split into a smile, his eyes turning into crescents before he shook his head.  “Maknae, sometimes I think you really are crazy,” he says before he pushed himself up and started towards the door.

 

Seungri watched him go and resisted the urge to touch his lips. They tingled still from the barely there second that their lips had connected, and then he watched Youngbae stop at the door and turned around.  “Come on,” he beckoned.  “Let’s go home.”

 

When Youngbae used to get asked about his first kiss, he pointed to the music video and while he let Jiyong do all the work of explaining he would throw a quick glance and Seungri and they would share a look and a hint of a smile.

 

See, for Seungri, Dong Youngbae is the kind of guy who sneaks his way into your heart and then breaks it quietly and he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.  He doesn’t mean to, Seungri gets that.  How can he expect Youngbae to know that with every uttered word of kindness, with every touch of his hand settled into the small of Seungri’s back as he guides Seungri forward, with every time he looked at Seungri like he was in awe, like he could only ever see the good he slowly chips away at Seungri’s heart one painful chink at a time until it’s all he knows?  Until the only version of love Seungri understands and cherishes, holds dear to his chest is this painful ache that reverberates inside of him day after day, year after year, beating in sync with his heart?

 

Everyone thinks he’s the bad boy.  No one knows that Dong Youngbae is the baddest boy of them all, and the worst part of it is he doesn’t even know.

 

**The Morning After:**

 

Youngbae pads into his kitchen with bare feet and a sheepish grin on his face.  He rubs the back of his neck when he apologizes.

 

“Seungri-yah, I’m sorry,” he says.

 

“It’s okay, hyung,” he says in return.  He doesn’t know what Youngbae is sorry for, but he’s too scared to ask, though why only God knows.  It’s not like he did anything wrong.

 

So he smiles at Youngbae and Youngbae smiles back, and he cooks breakfast while Youngbae drums his fingers against Seungri’s glass table.  The silence is unbearable but neither break it until, finally, mercifully, Youngbae asks him, “What are you making?”

 

He breaks out into a grin.  Can’t even help himself.  “Tuna pancakes.”

 

Youngbae breaks out into a laugh, pure joy in the lines of his face while he claps his hands.  It’s been awhile since he’d seen Youngbae smile like he means it, no trace of sadness in sight.  He releases the breath he hadn’t known he’d been hiding.

 

After, with an arm wrapped around Seungri’s neck he tells Seungri it’s as good as he remembers it.

 

**The Cusp of Change:**

 

Youngbae asks him if he can tag along when Seungri mentions he’s got plans.

 

Seungri’s never been able to really say no to Youngbae, can’t even think of a proper reason even if he wanted to.

 

So Youngbae tags along when Seungri parties with his friends.  Sometimes he manages to get drunk.  Sometimes he doesn’t.  Most nights in the beginning, when he _is_ drunk, he talks about Hyorin.  He talks about her doe-like eyes.  He talks about her perfect nose.  He talks about her pretty lips.  He talks about how much he misses her, and even though it cuts at him he listens and they drink and drink and drink, and then they jump to the thumping of the pounding bass, both the picture of two young men having the time of their lives.

 

Truth is Youngbae is miserable.

 

Truth is Seungri is miserable too.

 

Sometimes Youngbae stumbles home with him.

 

Sometimes Youngbae kisses him.

 

Eventually he stops talking about Hyorin.  Most time he still tries to kiss Seungri.  Sometimes, in a bout of weakness, Seungri lets him, and though Youngbae doesn’t talk about Hyorin anymore he’s under no delusion that the kisses are about anyone but her, least of all Seungri.

 

He gets it.  He’s easy.  He has a reputation.  He has never done commitment or love and Youngbae is just looking for a way to numb the pain.  Still, it hurts, a quiet pang in his chest every time.  He doesn’t do commitment or love with anyone else because he’s in love with Youngbae and in his own weird, fucked up way, he’s committed to that.

 

He guides Youngbae to his guest bedroom, supporting his weight with an arm hooked around his waist, and when he lays Youngbae to sleep he says, “Kiss me when you’re sober.”  He doesn’t know why he says it.

 

Youngbae smiles into his pillow, eyes closed.  “Okay,” he mumbles into the pillow like he’s accepting a challenge before he falls asleep.

 

In the morning he crowds Seungri against his kitchen counter and plants a kiss onto his mouth, and then he backs away shyly and asks, “Is this okay?”

 

Seungri knows he shouldn’t.  Seungri knows this path only leads him down the road of irreparable heartbreak but he’s always been all about impulse, no control, so he fists a hand into Youngbae’s collar and yanks him back in for another one.

 

**The Shift:**

 

“Are you scared?” he asks, low, hushed, the air charged between the distance of their lips.  Their eyes are connected, linked, and he can’t look away.  Youngbae is propped against the headboard, palms low and warm on Seungri’s hips and Seungri is hovering above him, thighs on either side of Youngbae’s.  His fingers dig into Youngbae’s biceps, feels the hard muscles resist under his touch.

 

“Terrified,” Youngbae breathes against his lips before he closes the distance between them.  Seungri moans into his mouth, slides his fingers up the hard muscles of Youngbae’s arms, along the cords of his neck before he buries his fingers in Youngbae’s hair.

 

“Do you want to stop?” he asks when they pull apart for air.  He hears Youngbae swallow.  He looks deep into Youngbae’s eyes searching for a clue but finds no clear answer.  Confusion.  Fear.  But his pupils are blown wide.  Seungri’s stomach is in knots, clenched tight in anticipation, clenched tight in worry.  After a month of heated make out sessions, of hands shoved down unzipped pants in club bathrooms, of him on his knees swallowing Youngbae down maybe it’s still too soon.

 

Still.   _Still._

 

“You got me?” There’s a vulnerable crack in his voice that has all the air squeezed out of Seungri’s lungs.

 

“I’ve got you,” he breathes into the side of Youngbae’s neck, hot, inches from his ear.

 

“Okay,” brushes along his own ear, and then Youngbae’s hands are guiding his hips down.  The head of his dick catches at Seungri’s rim.  Resistance at first, and then the give.  Seungri’s head falls back, mouth open in a silent scream as he savors the moment, the slow burn of sinking down and down and down until Youngbae is fully seated inside of him.

 

He feels alive.

 

He feels like he’s dying.

 

Youngbae groans into his shoulder, wrecked and broken, his nails digging into Seungri’s skin hard enough to leave indents.  Maybe he’ll bruise.  He’s trying so hard to keep still, Seungri knows.  He can’t help the smile that sneaks out.  Thoughtful, kind, caring Youngbae.  Must have done research on his own.  He doesn’t want to hurt Seungri after all.  He lifts himself up, rocks back down slowly.  Again and again.  Youngbae watches him and he watches back, enraptured at the play of emotions across his face.  There’s something there, wild and fierce, tender, loving almost but he scoffs at the idea.  No.  His eyes but be playing tricks on him again.

 

Youngbae bites his bottom lip to keep quiet, to keep everything bottled up inside of him because that’s the kind of person Youngbae is.  He’s not loud or flashy like the people Seungri likes to surround himself with, like Seungri himself.  He’s calm, silent and strong.  Sturdy.  Seungri tugs his lip free with his thumb, runs the pad along the pink bitten lip and stops at the center.  They share a moment just staring at each other, eyes locked, heated, and while never breaking away Youngbae opens his mouth, takes in Seungri’s thumb and kisses it, bites down.  Not hard enough to hurt but hard enough so that he feels an itch begin to grow in the pit of his stomach.  His breath catches - high pitched - and he jerks in Youngbae’s lap, slow rhythm stuttering and that breaks something in Youngbae who, in one liquid smooth motion, pins Seungri down on the bed, sheets cool against his back.  He expects to be fucked hard and fast, manhandled roughly as Youngbae selfishly takes what he wants but instead it’s almost unbearably slow, each thrust into him measured, and he catches Youngbae grin, the corners of his eyes happy, when he cries out, the head of Youngbae’s cock nailing his prostate.

 

He’s not sure what he expected after they were done.  Maybe for Youngbae to run away.  Maybe for him to mumble an apology and say it was a mistake, that he’s unmistakably very, very straight and _hey, let’s never talk about this again, okay?_  But Youngbae lies with him afterwards, his thighs spread open so that Seungri can slide into the vee of his pelvis, fingers laced together on Youngbae’s abs as his chin rests on top.  Youngbae reaches down, runs a hand through the mess of Seungri’s hair, and laughs when his Seungri lets out a sharp cry, knotted hair caught by Youngbae’s fingers.

 

“Sorry,” he says, smile still on his lips, crescents for eyes.

 

“You’re not sorry at all,” he shoots back but there’s no bite.

 

Youngbae tries again, this time slower as he carefully works the knots out of Seungri’s hair one after the other.

 

**The Song of Love and Sorrow:**

 

As clean as Youngbae is with his shoes and clothes and hats and accessories, even at Seungri’s apartment, it’s surprising that there _are_ things he leaves lying around, almost like he’s forgotten about them completely.  Week old post-it notes reminding him to pick up his dry cleaning, that he needs to call his mom, that _Hey, Seungri, I drank the last of your juice.  I’ll pick up some more.  See you later_.  And then another little note under that to remind himself to actually get the juice.

 

What he means is that he doesn’t go looking for them.  They’re laid out on his dinner table, half-strewn about pieces of paper with words scrawled onto them, half of them crossed out angrily.  Lyrics, he thinks, as he’s shuffling them back together.  He should have just left them be but before he can really think it through he’s already in a chair and quickly glancing through the words. A bitter smile takes over not even halfway through the first verse.  The words are pretty, no doubt.  Youngbae’s words are always so heartfelt, containing all his emotions and deepest wishes but maybe that’s why they hurt so much.

 

_Please hurry, kill me and go._

 

How aptly said.

 

The moment he had read the line it had hit with a pang in his chest.  It had him drawing in one quick, sharp breath, a new wave of sorrow slowly seeping through his pores and into his core where it nestled into the crevices right next to the ache and the pain he’d been carrying for years now.  His bitter smile grows as he finishes reading the rest because with pristine clarity it’s so obvious how much Youngbae still thinks about her, how in love he still is with her.   _Why am I a fool?  Why can’t I forget you?  You’re already gone._

 

He hears the front door open and sets the papers back down, still neatly put together, and schools his features.  No doubt it’s Youngbae with, hopefully, the guava juice he had promised to replenish some weeks ago.  Sure enough, not two seconds later Youngbae comes into sight, plastic bag caught between his fingers as he toes off his sneakers before lining them neatly against the wall next to his other ten pairs of shoes in the foyer.

 

“What’s up?” he asks when he finally looks up.

 

“Nothing,” Seungri answers with a shrug after a beat has passed.  The trick is to act nonchalant too, like he’s got no care in the world.  Answering too soon always means something is clearly wrong and he has something to hide.  He does have something to hide but Youngbae doesn’t need to know that.

 

He must have not waited long enough though, because Youngbae gives him a look, his eyes squinting at Seungri as if he’s trying to discern what Seungri could be lying about.  In the end he says nothing, just proudly holds up the bag with Seungri’s guava juice, so Seungri says nothing right back.

 

“I finally remembered,” he says, and Seungri rewards him by sinking to his knees in the kitchen, undoing Youngbae’s too tight jeans, and swallowing him whole.  Maybe he might have been a little desperate while doing so, wanting so much to please Youngbae and make him feel good.  Maybe he’s also desperately trying to remind himself that this is nothing more than just two friends and two bodies finding release together.  Youngbae isn’t magically going to fall in love with him.  No way, now how.  And maybe, if he could be more honest with himself, he’d have to admit that from the get go, even though he had promised not to get his hopes up for something beyond the physical he’d been lying to himself, especially when Youngbae cups the side of his face and slows him down.

 

“Easy,” he says, strained smile on his face and out of breath.  “We’ve got time.”

 

He does as Youngbae asks even when he knows Youngbae is lying.  They don’t have time.  They don’t have nearly enough time at all because soon enough Youngbae is going to leave him.  He’s going to find another pretty girl with another set of perfect eyes and nose and lips and just like how Hyorin had left him -- a broken mess left behind her without a glance back -- Youngbae is going to leave him the same way.

 

Youngbae runs a thumb tenderly along his cheekbone when he comes, and then he sinks onto his knees in front of Seungri so that they’re eye to eye.  Seungri jerks back when Youngbae tries to kiss him.  “It’s dirty,” he says as explanation but Youngbae doesn’t seem to think so.  Or maybe he just doesn’t care.  He leans in again and catches Seungri’s lips with his own, pries them open with a tongue and delves in so that the taste of his come is shared between the two of them.

 

In the middle of the night, throat scratchy and dry, he leaves Youngbae sprawled on his bed, sheet covering low on his hips, as he goes to grab a bottle of water from his fridge.

 

The lyrics are gone but he hadn’t expected any less.

 

**The Inbetween:**

 

When they’re both not running around his bedroom trying to find their clothes and keys and wallet so they can rush out the door and start their schedule for the day, they lounge around in bed doing mostly nothing.  He lies in the crook of Youngbae’s shoulder, ear pressed against chest, listening to his heartbeat as he grazes the ends of his fingertips down the muscles of Youngbae’s chest.

 

Sometimes, when they’ve finally found the will to get out of bed, Youngbae will make him breakfast, scrambled eggs with a side of white rice and kimchee because he keeps telling Seungri to actually eat breakfast, and when Seungri does is appalled by what he puts in his mouth.

 

“Seungri-yah, you can’t eat pizza for breakfast!” he had said once, and then snatched it right out of Seungri’s hand before he could even take a bite.

 

Sometimes Seungri wakes up to the feel of Youngbae’s breath ghosting along the back of his neck, an arm thrown over his waist. He turns around carefully until he’s facing Youngbae’s sleeping face, and watches the play of emotions across his features while he dreams. Sometimes there’s a twitch in his eyebrows.  Sometimes he scowls.  Sometimes there’s nothing but peace and it’s almost enough to lull Seungri back to sleep as well.  Inevitably Youngbae will wake up too, blinks once or twice before rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, and then he’ll swat at Seungri and call him weird while a nice flush of pink rises on his cheeks.

 

When they have the time, they shower together.  To conserve water, Youngbae always say.  But really it’s so that Youngbae can push Seungri up against the wall, sink down to his knees, and suck all thought and reason out of him while he tries to hold on for dear life, fingers tangled in Youngbae’s hair.

 

“Liar,” he accuses after he’s a heap on the shower floor, the sprinkles of water cool against his overheated skin.

 

Youngbae only grins deviously at him before biting one of his cheeks.  “Cute,” he says as Seungri ineffectively tries to push him away.

 

Sometimes he wakes up and Youngbae is already gone.  The spot next to him is cold, barren, and it leaves him feeling just as empty.  

 

Sometimes he wakes up to the noise of Youngbae scrambling around trying to collect his things as quietly as he can.

 

“Hyung?” he’ll ask in the dark, drowsy.

 

“Hey,” he’ll hear in reply.  Youngbae always comes sit down next to him, brushing the hair out of his bleary eyes when he speaks.  “Sorry.  My schedule starts really early today.  Didn’t mean to wake you.”

 

“It’s okay,” he’ll say in return and then lean into the hand that’s cupping his cheek as he starts to doze off again.

 

“I’ll see you later, maknae,” and then a kiss on his forehead and they’re both gone, Youngbae off to work and Seungri into dream space.

 

Those are their mornings.  Most of them at least.

 

The days and nights used to be much different.  Before, they used to do nothing but fuck hard and rough on his couch.  Against the wall.  Pressed into the kitchen counters.  Once on his table.  In the beginning, when he would open the door -- before he gave Youngbae a key -- sometimes Youngbae would attack him before the door even fully shut behind him.  He would shove his tongue down Seungri’s throat, a hand down his pants, and start to rub one out of him before Seungri could even comprehend what was going on.  Those times they never did quite make it out of the foyer, but he could never be disappointed when Youngbae would look at him with pupil blown eyes and then moan Seungri’s name into the nape of his neck while Seungri pulsed within the tight fist of his fingers and came onto his hand with a restrained shout.

 

Now, they still fuck hard and rough too.  In the shower.  Against his floor to ceiling glass windows.  One time out on the balcony when they’d both been recklessly stupid.  But they also fucked slow and languid, soft kisses and tender hands roaming over his body while they’re both in bed, while they’re on the couch.  Anywhere.  Everywhere.  If he was a romantic, he’d almost call it making love.  He can’t be though.  He refuses.  If he doesn’t he might just shatter.

 

It’s not just for sex anymore.  Life would be so much easier if that was all they did.

 

Somehow or other Youngbae had started trailing him home after work and Seungri never really had the heart to tell him not to, especially when Youngbae had looked at him with such an eager expression on his face.  And then it wasn’t just on days they worked together anymore.  It was all the time.  Youngbae was over all the time.  Days when they didn’t have anything to do.  Days when they did.  Nights when both of them had worked their own sixteen plus hour days without each other and wanted nothing more than to throw themselves straight into bed.

 

Times when they’re not tired is what kills him the most.  Light days at work (or no work at all), dinner at home, Youngbae cooking for the both of them in his kitchen.  Or dinner out with his friends.  With Youngbae’s friends.  Sometimes just the two of them.  They do that too now.  Sometimes he goes out clubbing and Youngbae tags along.

 

“You don’t have to go,” he says, knows Youngbae doesn’t like clubbing all too much.  He only goes for the people, for his friends and Jiyong, but the people Seungri always goes with are his own circle of friends.

 

Youngbae shrugs a shoulder nonchalantly.  “Might be fun.”

 

He hooks an arm around Seungri’s shoulder even though he’s shorter, and stays glued to Seungri’s side most of the night.

 

There are also evenings in front of his tv now, Youngbae’s head in his lap as he coerces Seungri to massage his scalp with his fingertips.  They watch a movie or a drama or something and then he falls asleep somewhere in the middle with Seungri’s hand in his hair.

 

“Seungri-yah,” he had said once while he’d been about to doze off.  “You know you’re special to me, right?”

 

 _Special._  Oh how he wished that were true.  Instead, he opened his mouth, all false confidence and plastered cheer, and said, “Of course.  I’m your maknae.”

 

“Yes, that but also-” and here he broke out into a yawn.

 

“You’re tired,” Seungri interjected immediately, interrupting when he saw the open.  “Let’s go to sleep.”

 

Youngbae shook his head, eyes still closed, the end of his nose grazing along Seungri’s shirt covered belly button.  It tickled a little causing his stomach tensed in response.  “I’ve been meaning to talk to you but I’m no good at this,” he sighed into Seungri’s stomach.  “I wanted to make sure we’re on the same page.”

 

He knew then just like he knows now.  He’s painfully aware of where they stand, but this is Youngbae and he never really wants to hurt anybody, no matter if they’ve hurt him beforehand.  He wanted Seungri to know that he was special, but not like _that,_ not like an actual lover, and the thing is Seungri might know but that didn’t mean he wanted to actually hear those words uttered out loud.

 

“Hyung, I know.”  He might have applauded himself for not cracking, for not only keeping a straight face but for being able to keep his voice light and happy.  “We don’t need to talk about it.”  
  
“You know?” Youngbae asked, a hint of smile at the corners of his lips.  “Of course you know.  You were always so smart, Seungri.  I just- I need you to know-  I-  About you-”

 

He had stuttered as he tried to find the right words.  Neither of them are particularly good with talking about their feelings, Youngbae less so than him so he offered Youngbae an out.  “I don’t want to talk about it.  It-” He stuttered too but found his way again.  “It makes me uncomfortable.”

 

The slight pinch of his brow and the downturn of his lips into not quite a frown but no longer a smile meant he was not exactly happy, but he wasn’t upset either.  “Okay,” he relented.  “As long as we’re on the same page.  You mean a lot to me.”

 

“Thanks,” he said, meant _But I don’t mean enough._  Youngbae’s light snores made their way up to Seungri’s ears, and he sighed, shook his head once or twice, and then nudged Youngbae’s shoulder.  “Hyung, come on, let’s go to bed.”

 

Youngbae whined.  “I’m sleeping right here.  I’m already comfortable.”

 

“But what about me?  I can’t sleep like this.”

 

A long suffering sigh from Youngbae and then he burrowed himself deeper into Seungri’s lap, refusing to move.  “Fine, but you’re carrying me.”

 

“Hyung, you’re heavy!” he exclaimed in protest.

 

In the end he decided on the route of pushing Youngbae off of him, watching as he rolled over, panic in his wide eyes, limbs flailing before he hit the ground hard, a pained groan escaping him.  Music to his ears, honestly.  Idiot deserved it.  Carry him to bed?  What did Youngbae think their life was?  A drama?

 

**The Wait:**

 

Somewhere in the middle of month four he thinks maybe Youngbae is here to stay after all.  No matter how he looks at it - and he’s looked at it quite a bit -- they’re pretty fucking domestic what with all the cleaning and cooking and doing laundry together.  Youngbae hangs the pieces that need hanging and makes Seungri neatly fold the rest rather than just let him leave it all in a heap on his closet floor.  Youngbae has his own _drawer_ and if that’s not a clue big enough to strike him across the face like a slap then he doesn’t know what is.

 

Truth is he’s still mostly in awe when he looks up and finds Youngbae on his couch.  Or in his kitchen.  Or on his living room floor doing push-ups and crunches.  It’s so weird it makes him wonder what his life has become, if it’s his life at all. Maybe it’s all a dream.  Maybe he’s stuck and can’t get out because he doesn’t realize he’s dreaming yet.  Does it matter then, what “real” is if he’s happy?  Because he is.  He’s actually kind of really fucking happy.

 

Month four closes and they slide into month five still together, still doing all the stupid things they’ve been doing for the past few months and he thinks that yeah, maybe, just maybe, he can have this after all.  Youngbae doesn’t look like he’s going anywhere soon and it’s not like he’s lacking in opportunity.  He has overheard Jiyong offer to introduce Youngbae to plenty of women soon, but Youngbae would only shake his head and shrug and say he’s in a good place right now, and he’s got a good thing going.

 

It takes him a while but he realizes one night when Youngbae is setting the table that hey, he’s that good thing Youngbae’s got going.  It kind of sets his heart a flutter.

 

He is light as air for the next week, week and a half tops, before he hears it.  It’s random notes at first, pretty combos of four to five notes, Youngbae at the piano he had bought years before only because he could.  He thinks nothing of it, just Youngbae messing about, until one day it’s not just random strings of notes anymore.  It’s a full fledged song, a pretty mid-tempo ballad by the sound of it.  No lyrics yet.  He asks about them the first time Youngbae plays the whole song through.

 

“Teddy-hyung is still arranging it,” he says by way of explanation, but it sounds like a lie.  Youngbae’s tense shoulder gives him away.

 

“Pushing it a bit close, aren’t you?” he asks instead, lets the lie slip by.

 

Youngbae turns around, grin on his face.  “Are you worried for me?” There’s a teasing lilt in his tone even if relief is more present than anything.

 

“Nah,” he shoots back, smile on his face even if he knows it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.  “You’ve got a month.  If it’s you, you’ll make it.”

 

It’s ridiculous how brightly Youngbae shines at him when the comment sinks all, all worries melting away.  

 

Two days later and freshly out of the shower, towel thrown over his head as he rubs his hair dry, he overhears Youngbae playing the song again, except this time as he stops where his hallway ends and his living room begins he hears Youngbae singing softly the lyrics he’d once read before.

 

 _Please hurry, kill me and go_ _  
_ _I’m all right._

 _Look at me one last time_  
_Smile like nothing’s wrong_  
_So when I miss you_  
_I can remember_ _  
_ So I can draw your face in my mind.

 

He stands there, listens until the end, catching all the rises and falls of Youngbae’s voice.  The rawness.  The pain and the agony.  Most of all the longing.  It’s all so clear in his voice and when it’s over, when the last _It hurts so much, but now I’ll call you a memory_ hangs in the air he understands so perfectly why Youngbae had lied, why he doesn’t want Seungri to hear this song.  This song isn’t meant for him. It’s meant for the person he’s going to win back.  And he will.  It’s the type of song that melts any heart, no matter how cold, and Min Hyorin will come running back to Youngbae the moment she hears it too.

 

He was stupid before, to think that Youngbae wanted something serious with him.  He was nothing more than a safe port in a storm, somewhere to tide Youngbae over until he could win Min Hyorin back.  And really, he should have known.  Youngbae had never even said he liked Seungri to begin with, nothing beyond brotherly friendship anyway.

 

So he takes a few steps back, makes a show of announcing himself before he steps into the living room and ignores the way Youngbae turns the piano sheets around so that Seungri wouldn’t see anything.  Not that it mattered now anyway.  He puts on a smile for Youngbae’s sake, tries his best to appear not sad but he isn’t the actor in their group and Youngbae must have picked up on something.

 

He keeps Seungri close that night, holds his hand even after he’s fallen asleep.

 

Seungri watches the furrow of Youngbae’s brow, and when he tries to drag his hand away Youngbae unconsciously tightens his hold and follows Seungri.  He sighs and gives up, tries to go to sleep but sleep eludes him so he spends the rest of his night watching a range of emotions move across Youngbae’s face.

 

There isn’t much left to do but wait.

 

**The End of Nothing:**

 

Apropos of nothing Jiyong shows up out of the blue one day.  It’s the middle of his tour and from what he’s heard it’s packed jam tight and chaotic as all hell, so he’s surprised to see Jiyong’s face equipped with a peace sign caught in the bottom right corner on his security monitor when the doorbell rings.

 

Jiyong walks into the place with all the ease of a close friend and throws himself onto Seungri’s couch.  He takes off his hat and mask, pushes up his sunglasses and with a wide grin asks Seungri how he’s been.

 

Jiyong typically doesn’t show up unannounced so he’s suspicious already.  “I’ve been good, hyung,” he answers cautiously.  “How’s the tour?”

 

Jiyong answers him by way of enigmatic smile, ignores the question, and says instead, “So I’ve been hearing these little whispers.  Something about how you and Youngbae are inseparable these days and as Youngbae’s best friend, I have to say I’m a little worried I’m being upstaged here.”  The words sound light and there’s still a smile on his lips but he’s been with Jiyong eight years, almost nine, he knows when Jiyong is fishing.  He also knows when Jiyong already knows the answer to a question he hasn’t quite asked yet either.  

 

Their little moment is broken when they hear feet shuffling towards them. “Youngbae!” Jiyong shouts, excited when he spots his friend, hair still wet from his shower.  For the first time since he arrived Jiyong sounds genuinely relaxed, content in the only way he gets when Youngbae is around.

 

Youngbae uncovers the towel from his face, incredulous, asks, “Ji?” before it’s even fully off.  And then Jiyong is off and practically running to give Youngbae a hug, happy and light as air.  “What are you doing here man?”

 

Jiyong shrugs off the question, says words that don’t really amount to much, and wastes his free day away glued to the both of them.  They go out for dinner, sushi in their own private room and when Youngbae excuses himself to the bathroom, Jiyong looks over the rim of his glasses at Seungri with a question in his eyes.

 

“How long?”

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”  Another unimpressed stare.  Jiyong waits him out, calm and cool while Seungri starts to burn from the inside out, antsy and leg twitching to start bouncing.  “Five months,” he finally says.  “Give or take.”

 

Jiyong pushes his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose again.  He stays mostly silent, thinking it over as he stuffs a piece of sushi into his mouth.  He chews slowly and Seungri waits for the other shoe to drop.

 

“Youngbae looks happier.”  Seungri keeps silent, doesn’t know what to say to that.  After a beat, he continues.  “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

 

“Hyung?”

 

He is given a tight smile.  “Kiko tells me Youngbae and Hyorin have been talking to each other again.”

 

“Oh.”

 

Jiyong folds his napkin carefully in front of him.  Slow.  Measured.  Like his words.  “I know you’ve always… cared a lot about Youngbae.  I don’t want you to get hurt.”

 

He gives his best smile but nine years go both ways and he has always been closest to Jiyong.  Jiyong knows when he’s lying the second he does it.  So when Seungri tells him this thing between him and Youngbae is nothing he knows Jiyong doesn’t believe him for a second.  He must also know he isn’t going to win though, or at least when to pick his battles, so he keeps quiet and offers Seungri another glass of wine as Youngbae makes his way back to them.

 

At breakfast next morning, after the fifth time Youngbae’s phone has gone off to let him know he’s received another message, he puts his chopsticks down, clears his throat, and says, “You should answer her.”

 

Youngbae has the decency to look guilty at least.  “It’s not important.”

 

“Ah, hyung!  Don’t be like that!  If you want to get back together then you’ve gotta put in some effort.  Make her feel like she’s important enough to you that you answer her right away, you know?”

 

He plasters on his biggest smile, tries to make sure his face is filled with the all the joy and encouragement he doesn’t actually feel all the while hiding that the moment Youngbae turns away he’s going to break into a million pieces right there on his kitchen floor.

 

Youngbae doesn’t look happy though.  If anything, he looks confused and upset.  “You want me to get back together with Hyorin?”  And there it is.  Confirmation.  No need to lie about who keeps sending him all these texts.

 

“I want what you want and what you want is her,” he says, comes off carefree.  Panic in his eyes and Seungri knows Youngbae is about to spout another lie at him as soon as he opens his mouth.  He nips it.  “I heard your song.”  Youngbae’s mouth snaps shut.  “It’s for her, right?  You wrote it for her?”  Youngbae’s silence is enough confirmation.  “So what are you waiting for?”

 

After a long bout of silence, Youngbae clears his throat and asks quietly, “What about us?”

 

“Us?” He laughs for show and swears his sees Youngbae shrink.  Must be a trick of his eyes.  “Hyung, this-” a gesture between the two of them, “-it’s nothing!  I like no strings attached fun and you just wanted a rebound, right?”  His chest hurts even as he says those words, wound tight and fraught, tense and fragile.

 

He carefully controls his breathing, makes sure Youngbae doesn’t pick up on any of his own lies as he waits for a response.  Finally, a closed off, “Yeah.  It was nothing serious.”  He hadn’t realized how much he’d been hoping Youngbae would deny it, that Youngbae would yell at him and call him an idiot and tell him that he’d been serious the entire time and how dare Seungri think otherwise, that he’s pissed off beyond belief but he’s not going anywhere until Seungri told him he thinks they meant nothing too.

 

They finish breakfast in silence, the air between them thick with tension.  Youngbae doesn’t look at him as he sets his dirty dishes in the sink and he doesn’t say anything when he leaves.

 

When Seungri makes it home that day, fifteen past midnight, Youngbae’s stuff is gone.  He sits on his couch and takes note of how empty his apartment is.  He curls up into the cushions and refuses to cry.

 

Two weeks later he hears Hyorin is once again the girl in the music video for Youngbae’s new song.  He figures they must have gotten back together.  That’s how the nothing between the two of them ends.

 

**The Fallout:**

 

He’s okay.  They don’t see each other for a week or two after Youngbae gets back with Youngbae gets back with Hyorin so it’s weird the first time they see each other again but after a day or two they’re okay.  He even does Youngbae’s starcast with him.

 

So what if he parties a little more now without Youngbae to keep him at home?

 

So what if he leaves his laundry on the floor and eats leftover pizzas for breakfast while hungover?  Who needs lunch anyway?

 

So what if he drinks a little too much and maybe black out once or twice.  It’s not a frequent thing, really.  He’s allowed to have fun once in awhile too.  He’s young and these people are his friends and it’s rude to deny drinks they buy just for him.

 

He knows what he’s doing.  He’s got it all under control, even when he’s on his knees in front of a toilet bowl, keeled over as he vomits the contents of an empty stomach into it.

 

He’s got it under control.

 

No need to be worried, really.  He’s okay.

 

Jiyong’s just overreacting like the mother hen that he actually is.

 

Really.

 

**The “I’m not okay.”:**

 

Top-hyung takes him out to a quiet bar, not another soul in sight save the bartender who leaves the bottle of red and goes other end of the bar when Top-hyung hands him a hundred.  They’re on stools, side by side, and he places a glass of red in front of Seungri then pours one for himself.  Seungri downs his before Top-hyung even has a first sip of his but Top-hyung doesn’t say anything.  He doesn’t even raise an inquiring eyebrow.  Instead, he sets his glass down, picks up the bottle again, and pours Seungri another one.  This one he drinks much slower.

 

It’s nice, comfortable, the silence that they share.  This is why he likes hanging out with Top-hyung the most.  No questions.  No Speeches.  No talks about team responsibility and _Seungri, you’re an idol.  What were you thinking?_  Absolutely no expectations and that makes it so much easier for him to open up.

 

“I’m sure you’ve been asked a million times and I’m even more sure that you’re tired of being asked whether you were drunk that night or not,” Top-hyung says to cut him off before he can confess, deep voice low and calm, soothing.  “I really don’t care either way.  Everyone’s so worried about right or wrong and public image and PR control or something, but no one’s probably asked if you were okay.”  A pause.  “Are you?  Okay, that is.”

 

He opens his mouth to reassure Top-hyung that of course he was okay.  His name is Seungri after all, he doesn’t lose.  Except when he actually does open his mouth nothing comes out.  He tries once more and still nothing, and then something like a strangled sob climbs out of his throat.  “I’m not okay at all,” he finally croaks out, tears prickling the corners of his eyes as he finally admits the truth.  He hasn’t been okay since Youngbae left.

 

Top-hyung nods slowly, takes another drawn out sip of his wine.  “I figured as much.  You’ve been spiraling.”

 

He laughs.  It sounds sad and pathetic even to his ears.  He can’t imagine what it must sound like to Top-hyung.  “Didn’t realize it was so obvious.”

 

“Everyone’s noticed.”

 

“Everyone?”  He can’t help the hopeful note in his tone, hates himself a little for it.

 

“Yep.  Even Youngbae.”

 

“Oh.”

 

Silence first, then, “I’m here to listen if you want to talk.”

 

More silence.  Top-hyung must have laced the wine with something because somewhere around glass three he really does start to talk.  He tells Top-hyung about how it starts, how it ends and everything in the middle.  Glass five he tells Top-hyung about how much it hurts, how the first two days he hadn’t left his bed at all because it still smelled like Youngbae.  He tells Top-hyung about how empty he had felt the days after, how hollow, like his life didn’t matter anymore because the most important thing in it had disappeared.  He tells Top-hyung how it still hurts, how his chest sometimes still feels like he’ll never be whole again, how it sometimes throb, heart lurching into his throat when he’s watching Youngbae for too long, that the only times he felt anything resembling okay was when he was drunk off his ass.  

 

Bottle three he’s half on the bar, the side of his face cradled in the crook of his own elbow, Top-hyung still sipping from his first glass of wine.

 

When he’s mostly fallen asleep, Top-hyung clears his throat and calls him an idiot.  “It was obvious Youngbae returned your feelings.  He didn’t say anything about getting back together with Hyorin at all.  You’re the one who threw him away.”

 

“No. No no no no no, hyung,” he slurs out.  “You don’t get it.  He wrote that song for her.  He missed her so much and he wanted her back so, so so so _so_ much.  You tell me how I was supposed to compete with that.”

 

Top-hyung’s eyebrows pinch together as he contemplates his words for a moment, and then he says, “Sometimes you don’t write a song because you want them back.  Sometimes you write a song because you’re ready to let them go.”

 

“What in the hell is that supposed to mean?”

 

“Think about it, maknae.”

 

 _Maknae._  Even that hurt too.  No one really calls him maknae anymore, only Youngbae those few short months they were together.  Or not together.  He doesn’t know anymore.  Top-hyung is messing with his mind.

 

He refocuses back to Top-hyung when he continues speaking.  “‘ _It hurts so much, but now I’ll call you a memory.’_  That sounds a lot like moving on.”

 

He thinks about those words, lets them really sink in and when they do the tears start.  One after the other they roll down his eyes and onto his arm, wetting the light blue of his sleeves and staining them darker.  Once they start they won’t stop.  He repeats over and over, “I hate you, hyung.  I hate you so much.”

 

He doesn’t mean it.  Of course he doesn’t mean it but that’s much easier to say than admit that he’d fucked up, that he’d lost the most important person in his life because he was a fucking idiot.  Top-hyung keeps silent.  He finally finishes off his glass, pours himself another one, and rests a warm hand on the back of Seungri’s neck when he hides his face in his arms, chest still heaving from the sobs he had been holding in for months.

 

**The Trying to Moving On:**

 

Youngbae seems genuinely happy with Min Hyorin and they look like they’re making it work.  And Seungri, well, he had his shot and he blew it.  No one to blame but himself, so he tries to do the only thing left for him to do: move on.  He wants to be happy too.  He deserves to be happy too.

 

He gives up the excessive drinking and partying, picks up DJ-ing instead.  He starts to travel the world more, go to new places he hadn’t before because there’s so much to see out there and when he’s away from Korea and Japan and China he feels like he can finally breathe again after so long.

 

And maybe it’s not perfect and maybe he’s not one hundred percent yet.  Maybe he never will be but he’s getting closer to something that feels like “good” one day at a time.  Come time for their comeback after a three year group hiatus, he says fuck it and dyes his hair for the first time.  He had lightened his hair before, thrown in the occasional highlight here and there but nothing to this scale.

 

It’s terrifying and exhilarating at the same time and it turns out far better than he had expected.

 

Top-hyung runs a hand through his just styled, blond hair, down the back of his neck and rests his hand there.  “You look good,” he says.  Everyone echoes their agreement, Jiyong especially when he hooks his arm around Seungri’s neck and tugs him down so he can bully Seungri easier.

 

He catches Youngbae’s eyes and expects them to be warm.  Except he’s greeted with hard ones before Youngbae catches himself and offers him a smile.  It doesn’t feel real.  He asks Youngbae later if he’s okay, and Youngbae nods his head, follows it with, “Never better, maknae.”

 

The way Youngbae calls him maknae still makes his heart flutter, but he tamps it down, keeps it hidden, says with a smile, “Okay.  If you say so,” and gets up to leave.  If Youngbae says he’s fine who is he to question?  Who he is he push when Youngbae doesn’t want to answer.

 

Youngbae catches his wrist, let’s go immediately like he’s burned.  Seungri pretends he doesn’t notice.  Sincere, he tells Seungri, “You really do look amazing.”

 

“Thank you, hyung,” he says cheerfully, thinks bitterly _so much for moving on_ as he does his best to look like he isn’t hightailing it out of there.

 

**The Truth:**

 

Vegas, America, and Seungri is manhandling Youngbae out the back door and into the alleyway because he’s just attacked the guy Seungri had been hoping to take back to his hotel room for the night. Barely through the door Youngbae’s palms connects with his chest and he gives Seungri a hard shove to put some distance between the two of them.

 

“What the fuck, hyung!?” he exclaims as he watches Youngbae turn around angrily, increase the distance between the two of them with a few deliberate steps before he swivels back around to face him.

 

“What the hell were we, Seungri?”

 

It’s half past midnight.  The air is cold and dry, the thump thump thump of the damn bass pounding like a headache in his head rather than a heartbeat in his chest, and Youngbae is giving him the saddest eyes, like Seungri had just betrayed him.  He looks defeated and broken, like he’s folding in on himself.

 

“Sometimes it’s all I think about,” he croaks out.  “What were we?  Was I just like that guy in there?  The one who was all over you?  Someone convenient?  Could I have been anyone else as long as you had your bit of fun?”  Each word pierces while Youngbae closes in on him, and he feels his breath catch as the distance between them shrink.

 

“Hyung,” he hears himself plead.  For what he doesn’t know.  There’s this bad feeling in the pit of his stomach telling him to run away.  He should.  He knows he should.  “Don’t do this to me.”

 

Too late.  The space between them is gone.  Youngbae’s palms are warm against the side of his neck, his fingers laced in the back, and they’re forehead to forehead, eye to eye and so close that Seungri can’t hope to look anywhere else.

 

“Seungri,” he whispers, sounds torn.  “I get so jealous sometimes.  Of that guy in there.  Of Jiyong.  Top-hyung because you’ve gotten so close to him and I know it’s not right.  I know you can do whatever you want even if we were together, but I keep thinking about you.  And I keep thinking that there was a time when I could just lean in,” his breath brushes Seungri’s lips, leaves him tingling.  “I could lean right in and kiss you, and you’d kiss me right back.  Because you were mine.  Now I can’t even hug you or touch you without you tensing and Jiyong and Top-hyung, they get to touch you whenever they want and all you do is smile at them and soak in all their attention, and I just think about what could possibly be wrong with me because you won’t look at me anymore, and any time you do you look so sad and I just want to make it go away.”

 

His hands come up immediately, grips Youngbae’s shoulders and stops him where he’s at when he moves in, mouth a hair’s breadth away from his.   _No_ , he thinks, _don’t do this to me._  “Hyung,” he says when he opens his mouth, begs, “Please.  I’m in a good place and I don’t-”

 

Youngbae doesn’t listen because he’s the baddest boy of them all.  He asks against Seungri’s lips, cuts him off before he can finish his request, “Seungri, what was I to you?”

 

Imploring, soulful eyes and he gives in, crumbles like a piece of toast.  “Everything,” he breathes out, feels the answer being sucked out of him and into the open.  “Hyung, you were everything to me.”

 

When Youngbae kisses him he falls apart, sobs into Youngbae’s mouth as his hands slide down Youngbae’s chest, past his ribcage, and wraps around Youngbae’s waist to keep him close.

 

**The Apology:**

 

His hand meets nothing but air when he reaches over in the morning.  He strangles down a sigh, chest heavy, and slowly breathes it out through his nose.  The bed still feels warm underneath his fingertips so Youngbae must have just left.  He keeps his eyes closed, avoids reality for just a moment longer by pretending that Youngbae has just stepped outside, that he’s going to come back.  Even the lie sounds hollow to him.

 

Another sigh, this one he doesn’t hold back, as he flops onto his back.  He blinks up at the ceiling unseeing, disappointment and rejection sinking into him but he’s gotten used to this with Youngbae.  There’s nothing but heartache there.  He should have learned this by now.

 

So when Youngbae shuffles into his hotel room with a white bag and two cups of coffee he can’t help jerking up into a sitting position, confused out of his mind, watching with impossibly wide eyes as Youngbae toes off his shoes while greeting him.  “Hey,” he says, cheerful, eyes turned into crescents.

 

“Hey,” he echoes back much more cautiously, resisting the urge to pull the sheet around his waist up until it covers even his neck.

 

Youngbae holds up the coffee and the bag.  “Breakfast,” he says by way of explanation.  Two bagels, choice of strawberry or vegetable cream cheese.  Youngbae lets him choose.  He nibbles at his wordlessly, all the while waiting for the other shoe to drop.

 

Finally he can’t take it anymore.  “What’s going on here?” he asks.  “Are you just messing with me?  Like we’re in America so it doesn’t count as cheating or something?  Because last I checked cheating is still cheating no matter where you are and who you do it with.”

 

Youngbae finishes off the last bite of his bagel, takes his time doing so too.  Seungri knows he’s only buying time as he thinks about what he wants to say.  “Hyorin and I are on a break,” he finally says.  “We ignored it for a long time but we’re not working.  We couldn’t fit each other.”  Of all the things to continue with, Youngbae decides on, “I wrote that song for you.”

 

He scoffs even before he can stop himself.  He’s suddenly angry and on the offensive because that’s a bunch of bull.  There’s no need for pretense here.  They both know exactly which song he’s talking about.  “You didn’t write that for me.”

 

Silence again, Youngbae’s brows pinched together as he picks up on the fact that Seungri is upset.  He thinks his answer over carefully.  “I wrote it for me,” he says.  “But I wrote it because of you.  Because you made me feel like I had already moved on.  Because you made me happy.”

 

The anger, the abrasiveness melts away, left in its place the boy who has always been very much in love with Dong Youngbae.  “You made me happy too,” he says after awhile.  “And I’m sorry.  I hurt you.  I hurt you a lot, didn’t I?  I didn’t get it.  How you felt about me.  I didn’t get it at all.”

 

Youngbae cups a cheek and he leans into it.   _Maknae,_ he says.

 

“I have a name you know.”  Teasing.  Playful.

 

Youngbae turns it around, makes it mean something.  “ _Seunghyun,”_ brushes against his cheek like a prayer.  “I’m sorry too.  I should have told you right away the moment I felt it.  It wasn’t a convenient thing for me then.  It’s not a convenient thing for me now.  Seunghyun, _I love you.”_

 

His mouth splits into a grin the moment he hears those words.  It widens as the words sinks in, carrying with them a happiness and joy that bubbles in his chest, makes him feel like he’s going to explode from being overwhelmed.  He throws himself back onto the bed, stares up at the ceiling, dazed.  He can’t quite believe this is happening until Youngbae lies down next to him, takes his hand and twines their fingers together.

 

He turns his head, catches Youngbae’s eyes, says through the stupidly wide smile that is no doubt still glued onto his face.  “Hyung,” he practically sings, light as air.  “I love you, too.  I- I need you.”

 

**The “I need you, too, okay?”:**

 

Top-hyung tells him he’s being stupid.

 

He keeps insisting he’s not.

 

Top-hyung takes his glass of wine away from him and tells him idiots don’t deserve Pinot Noir.

 

He whines but Top-hyung only gives him one of his patented _I’m not falling for this again_ glares, and well, whatever.  He’s allowed to be nervous.  Nervous is an understatement.  Scared more like.  Terrified.  Youngbae had said one thing but any number of things can change his mind.

 

“This is just a formality.”  He sips at Seungri’s glass, his own now empty.  “They were on a break because even after over a year he couldn’t get over you.  Youngbae is just making sure it’s clean so that she doesn’t have hopes of them getting back together again.”

 

Seungri knows that.  He’s repeated the same thing to himself a thousand times over but these nerves in his chest won’t ease until Youngbae comes back.  Top-hyung most know that too, because he slides Seungri’s glass of wine back to him.

 

“I thought idiots didn’t deserve Pinot Noir.”

 

Top-hyung makes a grab for it but Seungri is quicker.  He moves it just out of reach because he knows Top-hyung is too lazy to give the extra effort it takes to get it back.

 

It’s late when Youngbae crawls into bed with him, bare chest pressed into Seungri’s back.  Seungri stirs, makes a bit of noise at being woken up but Youngbae kisses his cheek and shushes him, urging him to go back to sleep.  An arm wraps around his middle and when he’s warm and almost back into his dreams, Youngbae says to him, “I need you, too, okay?”

 

He smiles, still warm and hazy, and answers Youngbae with a sleepy, “okay.”

 

\----

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first time writing baeri but I'm thinking that it might be my last. I will still enjoy all the marvelous fics about them but I'm not sure if I have another baeri hidden in me somewhere. But you know with the right prompt and inspiration maybe someday ^_^
> 
> But yes, if you were frustrated with Seungri, trust me, so was I. I'm the one who wrote him and sometimes I just wanted to shake him and yell, "Open your eyes Seungri! The man is clearly in love with you!" I think it's hard trying to straddle that line of Youngbae clearly being obvious with his feelings and Seungri not getting it so that you feel sorry for Seungri. But I hope it turned out okay?
> 
> Anyhow, thank you so much for reading and I hope you were able to enjoy it ^_^
> 
> Comments and Kudos are, as always, very much appreciated.


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